


Grind it Out

by NotUlysses



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 21:30:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10839828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotUlysses/pseuds/NotUlysses
Summary: It's February, the regular season is grinding along, and Josh and Zach spend some quiet time at home.





	Grind it Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cosmonautically](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmonautically/gifts).



> I'm so glad I got a chance to write this pairing for someone else! Thanks so much for prompting this, and I hope you like it.

The continual buzzing of his phone wakes Josh up just after sunset. He groans and reaches for it, rubbing at his cheek where he’d accidentally smushed it against the x-box controller at some point during his impromptu nap. 

There’s a  _lot_ of messages. Apparently the young guys – Boone and Prouter, mostly, with occasional interjections from Murrs – were feverishly debating which of Columbus’s bars they were planning on hitting up tonight. Josh doesn’t know why they bother, since they almost invariably end up at the same one. 

Zach’s been included in the conversation – most of the bars they go to aren’t picky about checking the ID of college students, let alone caring about the one nineteen-year-old in their group – but hasn’t responded to anything yet. When Josh checks, his door is half-ajar, so using the rules that they’d never actually negotiated when they moved in together, Josh pushes it open a bit further and sticks his head in. 

“You going out with the guys tonight?” 

“All I want to do is stay home and die for the next few days.” Zach’s sitting on his bed, back against the headboard, and something in his posture and the specific nature of the paleness of his face confirms his temporary death wish. Josh frowns, wondering if the odd color to Zach’s face is illness or just the glow of his TV in the darkened room. 

He could go out with the guys, they’ve got a day off tomorrow and they’re not playing for another day after that, and blowing off some steam would feel pretty good. The nice thing about his relationship with Zach is that he never expects Josh to be as much of a homebody as he is, doesn’t cling and demand 24/7 attention. They both like their space, and it makes the time they spend together that much more fun. 

But still. Even though Zach is definitely the more responsible one in their partnership, Josh can’t shake the feeling that tonight’s one of those nights when he needs to stay in and take his turn at being the one doing the looking after. 

Anyway, It’s been a hard week, and watching his teammates hit on OSU girls doesn’t really seem all that appealing, so Josh isn’t really being all that self-sacrificing when he sends a message letting the guys know that they’re both staying in tonight. There’s an almost-immediate chorus of messages proclaiming them to be boring losers, but Josh just ignores that. He’s been up and down with the team for a while now, long enough to know that trying to argue with them will just lead to Boone and Prouter getting him to do something dumb and embarrassing the next time they all go out together. 

“Want to watch something together?” 

“As long as I don’t have to move.”

Josh has been living with Zach for several months, which is long enough to hear that there’s almost a hint of enthusiasm in Zach’s response.

They’ve been marathoning Friends – Wild Bill had talked so much about it that they’d had to start almost in self-defence – so they don’t have to really make a decision about what to watch. Zach shifts over on the bed, just enough to let Josh get himself comfortable, and flicks from the COD start menu over to Netflix. 

Zach’s bed is big, but Zach’s pretty solid and Josh is definitely not tiny, so he ends up pressed close against Zach’s side, giving him the chance to notice that Zach is the same, slightly cool temperature he normally is. Josh isn’t a doctor, but he’s pretty sure that’s a good sign that whatever Zach has isn’t too terrible. He rests his head against Zach’s shoulder, enjoying the difference in their body temperatures.

“This is how everyone gets mono.” Zach mutters. 

“You don’t have mono,” Josh retorts. “ _Do_  you have mono?”

“No, they tested me for that. And the mumps, for some reason. I don’t have that, either.” 

“I guess it’s good they’re being thorough.”

Zach harrumphs something that’s probably agreement. “Just gotta play through it. Hopefully get some rest during the bye week.”

“Grind it out. Play the full 60. Get pucks in deep, get pucks to the net— _ouch_.”

Zach has really sharp elbows, and an uncanny knack of finding just the right spot to hit. Josh is pretty sure he managed to get a bruise, the bastard. 

“Enough with the clichés. Unless you want to recite the ones about not taking too many penalties and leaving your teammates to kill them off.” 

Josh refrains from mentioning that Zach doesn’t even kill that many penalties. It’s a sore spot, with Zach, how Shawzy gives the other guys the harder workloads and the tense game moments. Josh gets it, has been trusted less than Zach currently is by NHL coaches. 

He’s still trusted less, actually. Zach takes it more personally than he ever does, though, and Josh can tell from a slight change in his face that he’s come to the same conclusion about his PK time. He contemplates kissing him on the forehead to console him, but decides that that’s too sappy. 

“Handjob?” he offers instead.

Zach looks at him for a moment, possibly incredulous, possibly horny. It’s kind of hard to tell the difference, with Zach.

“Sure.” 

Zach pauses the show as Josh clambers over him to the other side of the bed, successfully managing to not knee him in the stomach in the process. Not that Zach seems to properly appreciate this, given how much he grumbles as Josh gets himself settled again on the other side of the bed. 

It’s very ungrateful of him, really, considering that Josh is re-positioning himself to give him an amazing – well, better than average, anyway – handjob. He even takes special care to make sure to use just the right amount of lube, since Zach has Opinions about how much is too much. Josh doesn’t want to get told to remove his hand and clean off the excess before resuming his attentions. 

(Zach is pretty – okay, _really_ \- bossy and has an amazing amount of self-control. Josh isn’t sure that he’s meant to find that as much of a turn on as he does.)

As Zach shoves his pants down, cool and collected even now, Josh realises a couple of things. Firstly, Zach is half-hard already (Josh is always reassured by the fact that at least _some_ part of Zach reacts normally). Secondly --   
“No underwear?” he tries to make it sound suggestive, but it probably just sounds awkward. It’s not like Zach’s in much position to care, since he’s the one not wearing underwear while his roommate is about to get him off.  

"I was too tired to do laundry." Zach murmurs.

Josh bites back a laugh, and restrains himself from suggesting that Zach take his laundry back home during the bye week. Bringing up a guy’s Mom when you’re about to put your hand on his dick is never a good idea.

Zach normally doesn’t just let Josh touch him. He a bit of a control freak, enjoys telling Josh exactly what to do, almost as if he’s the one getting himself off, just using Josh as the tool. Today, however, he’s tired enough that he just sits back, eyes closed, letting Josh take charge. Josh has had plenty of practice by now, so he knows how to start stroking up and down the shaft of Zach’s dick with just the right amount of pressure, knows how to move his fingers just. like. that. to edge Zach closer to getting off.

Zach’s pretty calm and expressionless normally, but Josh has lived with him long enough know that he’s not really a statue or some kind of emotionless robot. And it might be sappy, but Josh kind of loves the way Zach looks when Josh is doing everything right and getting him off. The slight blush of color that creeps into his (really, really) pale cheeks, the way his expression never really changes, except that it does and he looks more… intensely  _Zach_ , somehow. 

And the way that Zach gets vocal when he’s really into what’s happening, because rather than the incoherent babbling that Josh (and most of his former sexual partners) engage in, Zach gets bossier, and starts giving him specific feedback about how good Josh is, how great he feels, and how Josh should repeat certain actions. 

(Josh does, on occasion, fantasize about what it would be like to manage to completely tease Zach into incoherency, but so far that’s always taken a back seat to how warm and useful he feels when Zach is praising him, and how much he wants to do exactly what Zach asks of him.)

Josh knows that he’s getting close when Zach’s face tightens a little bit, his hands grab and release the bed sheets and he stops speaking, all his energy being expended on letting out little gasps of air. He firms his grip on Zach’s dick, watches his face to see the color spread down through his cheeks towards his neck, and it’s not more than a few more strokes before Zach lets out a moan and comes over Josh’s hand, sinking back against the headboard and inhaling gasps of air as if he’s recovering from a hard shift.

Josh wipes his hand on Zach’s pants, cruelly taking advantage of the fact that he’s way too wrung out at that moment to protest, and shifts on the bed to lay down next to Zach again, managing to unpause the show as he does so. On screen, the characters recommence their implausible hijinks, and Josh watches through half closed eyes. 

He’s feeling pretty keyed up, the praise and orders from Zach having gone straight to his own dick, so it’s not too long before the pressure of his dick against his underwear – he’s going to be smug about actually doing laundry the next time Zach tells him off for leaving dishes in the sink, probably – gets to be too much, and he idly pulls it out and starts stroking.  
   
Only to stop abruptly when he realizes that Zach is staring at him. 

“Are you masturbating to Friends?” Zach asks, and okay, that look is definitely incredulous. Or maybe disgusted. 

“No, I’m masturbating  _while Friends is on_. There’s a difference.”

Zach rolls his eyes. 

If you turn it off, I’ll finish you off,” he offers. 

It’s not that Josh  _wants_  to say no – it’s a handjob, after all – it’s just that he’s meant to be looking after Zach tonight. 

Zach must be able to read his mind, or maybe just his face, because he rolls his eyes. 

“I’m  _tired_. It’s not like my hand is broken or something.”

And that’s about as much resistance as Josh is going to put up, thanks. 

Zach can milk it out for ages, can turn a simple handjob into a production, and the thing that Josh both loves and hates about him is that his face masks what he’s thinking, and behind that even expression lies a devious and inventive mind. He knows exactly how to make Josh crazy with need, how to bring him to the edge and then draw him back again, how to make him babble and beg and plead for relief. 

But that’s when he’s not wrung out from the exhaustion of far too many hockey games and not enough rest. Tonight he’s more business-like about getting Josh off, using firmer strokes from the start than he normally does, and only teases him by backing off just as Josh is getting really into it once. Josh has a far quicker trigger than Zach normally anyway, has never really had to practice self-control until Zach starting making him, and with Zach not working to make sure he takes his time, it’s not long before Josh feels his balls tightening, starts moaning with each breath, and Zach responses by moving his hand up and down faster, keeping a steady rhythm that’s just right for Josh. He lets out a shout as he comes, not too loud but just enough to bring a slight look of gratification to Zach’s face. Josh has enough experience to know that Zach likes to hear him, prefers him to be as free and uninhibited as he can, as if he gets off on the contrast between Josh and himself. 

Even though Josh is the one who just came, Zach’s the one who rolls over and closes his eyes, collapsing back into the pillows. That in itself speaks to his exhaustion. Zach is pretty fussy about cleanliness, and normally he’ll shower after sex, or at least wipe off his hands. The fact that he’s about to fall asleep despite being covered in mess and sweat is definitely abnormal. 

Josh rolls over to give Zach some space to sprawl, and the time on the alarm clock (of course Zach is the kind of person who sets two alarms in case one fails) reminds him that they’re going to have to think about dinner soon. Or Josh’ll have to think about dinner, since Zach’s currently half asleep and starting to look like he’s planning on living up to his earlier stated intent to die. 

A good roommate would probably make some chicken soup or something, but burning down the kitchen would not actually be restful, so Josh fishes his phone out of the bedcovers and scrolls through his contacts, trying to figure out which teammate might be able to give a good delivery recommendation. Nick’s good and Captainly, but he also has a wife who’ll send an army’s worth of food if she gets wind that Zach’s not well, and Zach probably doesn’t want that much attention. The younger guys are, well, the younger guys, and it’s likely they’re not going to hear their phones at whichever trashy bar they’re at, anyway. Dubi’s right out – the first time he’d ever been called up, Jack earnestly took him aside and told him to never, ever trust Dubi for anything. He isn’t sure if that advice extended to delivery place recommendations, but it’s probably better not to risk it. 

He eventually settles on Cam, who’s Responsible enough that he’ll probably be able to help but not Responsible enough that he'll try to barge in and run their lives. 

“Chicken soup isn’t magic. Get some carbs.” Cam sends back, but he also sends a list of a few places. Josh is impressed at the speed of his response, although he probably shouldn’t be, given some of the things he’s heard about Joey over the years. 

“We should eat something,” Zach says suddenly, as if he felt a burning need to wake up and be responsible. 

“Cam gave me a place that will deliver chicken soup. And told us to eat more carbs. So maybe we should get bread to go with it, if that sounds good.”

Zach mumbles something that sounds enough like agreement for Josh to go ahead with the order. He pokes Zach in the side once he’s done, makes the suggestion that Zach might want to get cleaned up before their food arrives. Zach looks at him, bleary-eyed and like he's just realising how disgusting and gross they currently are. Josh pokes him again to try to motivate him into action, enjoying the way Zach squirms away from his touch.

“You could shower with me?” Zach suggests as he shuffles himself slowly towards the side of the bed. Josh hesitates for a moment. Sure, they’ve been roommates-with-benefits for a while now, but the idea of showering together implies a certain level of intimacy that he’s not sure if they’ve really reached. 

Then again, Zach’s too deliberate and measured to ask for something like that on the spur of the moment, so it means that this is something he’s probably been thinking about for a while now. And, to be honest, Josh is completely fine with seeing more of Zach naked. 

“Sure.” 

And, yeah, it might be dumb and completely sappy of him, but Josh is gratified to see the faintest blush of pleasure flood Zach’s face at his positive response.


End file.
